


Trade

by Luckyhai5



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, PWP, Smut, Swimming Pool, a little bit dub-con, but bilbo definitely wants it, i need to study for my exams OH GOD, i replaced watson with bilbo and moriarty with thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyhai5/pseuds/Luckyhai5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the swimming pool, Thorin proposes a deal to Sherlock.<br/>PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WordsofBeauty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsofBeauty/gifts).



> Stupid smut o/s I wrote for a friend of mine a while back, thought I may as well post it.  
> Takes place in the swimming pool, PWP.  
> Now I think about it this is a slightly weird thing to write for a friend, haha.
> 
> Written a while ago and I haven't read it over, but smut is smut so yeah.

Bilbo felt his heart sink as he watched a red dot trace its way up to Sherlock’s forehead. Sighing in frustration, he released Thorin from his vice-like grip, stepping back with his hands held up.

The man was smiling, and Bilbo took a moment to take him in. He was medium-height, still taller than Bilbo, built solidly, a mass of muscle, with dark ribbons of silver-streaked hair falling around his shoulders. His eyes, blue and piercing, made Bilbo feel strangely weak.

He found himself wondering if Thorin had any tattoos, and where they might be found, his eyes flitting along the man’s muscled form.

Unthinkingly, he licked his lips.

But that was not the pertinent line of thought.

The pertinent line of thought was how on earth he and Sherlock would make it out of this swimming pool alive, away from the clutches of this maniac.

Thorin spoke, his husky baritone sending unbidden shivers down Bilbo’s spine.

"Here, Sherlock, I’ll make you a deal."

His casual words caused John to tense, as he watched Sherlock evaluating the man.

"Yes?"

"I’ll let you go, if you let me keep your pretty friend."

*

Bilbo was now alone with Thorin.

The man, not acknowledging him as of yet, turned to signal to the sniper, wherever they were. The he swiveled on his heel, leather jacket swishing magnificently behind him, the light reflecting off the rippling water and dappling his features.

Bilbo swallowed.

"The sniper’s gone." The man informed him, his voice raking through Bilbo, low and deep.

Bilbo nodded, unsure what was happening. It didn’t make sense for Thorin to let Sherlock go in trade for him - he couldn’t work out his plan.

"Shut your eyes." The barked command jolted Bilbo, but he didn’t comply.

Thorin seemed angered by this, taking a step towards him, his voice becoming loaded. “Shut your eyes.”

Bilbo did as he said, acutely aware of all his other senses when his sight was gone. He could hear the swishing leather coat as Thorin made his way up to him, feel his breath on his ear as the man leant in to speak.

"I want to have you."

Bilbo let out a squeak at the words, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. Oh, god, he shouldn’t be feeling this way…

"Do you trust me?"

The question seemed genuine, and Bilbo hesitated a moment before answering.

Despite himself, he nodded.

Oh, damn, what was he doing?! This man was a psychopath - he’d tied him to a bomb not a moment ago! Yet somehow, with his breath hot against his neck, Bilbo could imagine nothing more natural than leaning back into him, than running his hands through that hair, than claiming those rough lips as his own…

"Then do as I say."

That sent new tremors through Bilbo, the iron demand contained within the command frightening yet… exciting.

Promising. 

He inhaled sharply, and suddenly the breath on his neck was gone. There was the sound of falling fabric - Thorin had taken his jacket off. 

Oh, how Bilbo ached to see what he was wearing underneath it; what would his firm shoulders look like, he wondered, with nothing but thin cotton clinging to them, or perhaps even nothing at all?

Fuck it.

"No," Thorin’s voice commanded, "Don’t open your eyes."

How had he known what he was thinking?

The voice was hard to place, because the walls of the empty swimming pool echoed, but Bilbo thought Thorin had moved to his left. He kept his eyes shut, his breathing becoming shallow as he realised he couldn’t hear Thorin anymore.

For some reason, that turned him on.

He bit his lip as he felt himself go hard, letting out a groan in spite of himself.

A chuckle echoed off the walls. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” The rich, deep chuckle seemed to reverberate through Bilbo, as he practically squirmed where he stood.

A hand snaked around his waist from behind, unzipping his trousers and pulling them down, as well as his underwear. Bilbo moaned, although the hand only touched his clothes, not him.

Another moan was drawn from him as lips sucked at his earlobe, before the whispered words that followed sent tremors through him.

"Touch yourself."

Bilbo raised a tentative hand, tentatively stroking himself. For fuck’s sake, why did he feel like he’d never done this before? He started with a slow stroke, raising the pace as he thought about Thorin, about his broad shoulders, his dark hair, his bright blue eyes and  _fuck…_

"Stop." Thorin’s voice came from before him. 

Bilbo did stop, dropping his hand to his side and awaiting his next instruction. 

"Take off your shirt." Thorin said, as he pushed Bilbo’s jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. The unexpected heat of his hands, even through his shirt, made Bilbo whimper, as he fumbled with his buttons, eliciting another chuckle from the man before him. Oh fuck, Bilbo wanted to feel that chuckle reverberating all the way through him… When his shirt had joined his jacket on the floor, he stood still, feeling very exposed.

"Open your eyes."

He did.

Thorin was stood before him, his blue eyes piercing into Bilbo.

And he was naked.

Bilbo took in his body, noting the muscle tone, the slight scarring, and a stark dragon tattoo on his hip just above his groin.

_Fuck._

Bilbo’s hungry look said it all, and suddenly Thorin was pressed against him, his lips crushed against his. Bilbo moaned as Thorin ran his tongue over the seal of his lips, opening his mouth to let his tongue in, feeling it brush against his own. Thorin’s hands wandered all over him, as he broke the kiss, moving his mouth to suck the skin on Bilbo’s neck, leaving a blushing red mark. He trailed his lips down Bilbo’s chest, peppering it with kisses, then back up to his lips, bending Bilbo back for another kiss.

This time Bilbo was ready. He sucked on Thorin’s tongue, proud to cause the man to groan himself, before growling.

"I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget your name."

Bilbo’s turn came to moan, as Thorin spat on his hand, wrapping it around Bilbo’s cock and aligning it with his own, stroking up and down them both. Bilbo cried out, burying his head in Thorin’s shoulder, before Thorin used his other hand to raise Bilbo’s chin, kissing him, and Bilbo honestly thought he was going to die with Thorin’s hand on his cock and his tongue in his mouth.

The pace increased, Thorin seeming urged on by Bilbo’s trembling, the strangled moans escaping his throat as he clung onto him, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

"Come." The man snarled, pumping more forcefully and kissing Bilbo more deeply and Bilbo, crying out a garbled plea - for what he wasn’t sure - came, shuddering in Thorin’s arms, as the man followed.

Bilbo leant against Thorin, struggling to see through his ecstasy and regain control of his breathing, his shattered heartbeat. The man was warm, and he smelled musky. Bilbo thought he could lean on his shoulder forever, when he felt a hand run through his hair and lips pressed to his forehead.

Oh dear.

It seemed he was falling for the enemy.


End file.
